Well spotted
by QueenB
Summary: Ron's got the Yuletide blues, and the untimely arrival of a letter from Viktor Krum makes matters far worse. But what is Hermione struggling to tell him? And will he ever just listen?


I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist. I've been feeling all Christmassy, then got attacked but those pesky little plot bunnies, and this fluffy little one shot is the result. **Well Spotted**

Seriously, what's wrong with me? I mean, I look like a normal person. Admittedly, I'm far too tall and red haired, but it doesn't get much worse than that. Apart from the freckles. Damn the freckles. Damn them to hell. 

Anyway, I can bloody well cope with all those problems. They're hardly news worthy are they? The real problem is far worse, far more horrifying than anything I've yet mentioned. 

I've only gone and fallen for my best friend, haven't I? , I say fallen, but that sort of implies that it's been a recent thing. That one day it just happened, like falling in a puddle or one of Fred and George's swamps. 

The truth, the whole humiliating truth of it is that I've been in love with Hermione, said best friend, for years. And I know that you're not supposed to fall in love with your best friend, but I've gone and done it so it's too late now. 

And if I'm honest, it was always going to happen wasn't it? I can't understand why the entire male population of Hogwarts haven't yet thrown themselves at her feet, but of course, I'm thankful that they haven't. Naturally, I'd probably try and hex them into oblivion if they did, so that might have something to do with it.  One Viktor Krum is enough to deal with, thank you very much. 

Another fairly significant irritation is my other best friend, Harry. Now, I'm all for people being optimistic, but Harry just takes it a little far. The plonker keeps telling me that Hermione fancies me too, but he's just deluded. His fairly tale relationship with Ginny's giving him rose tinted glasses. 

According to Harry, our constant bickering represents, "sexual tension!" Pah. It's just because Hermione can't stand me half the time, that's what it is. I can be a bit of a prat, I will freely admit. I give her a bit too much grief about the Viktor situation, (why does she have to owl him, I man, he's a grouchy, boring, whiney old fart, isn't he?) But it's hardly my fault. What can I say? _I'm jealous._ She just doesn't know that. Nor is she _EVER_ going to. 

I'm not _that _stupid. 

I know what Hermione would do if I told her. Run away as fast her legs would carry her, that's what. And I could hardly blame her. She's way too special to throw herself into the arms of, well, me. 

The trouble is, Hermione, "the object of my affection" and all those other clichés is sitting opposite me, immersed in some ridiculously complicated essay. And what am I doing? I'm staring, that's what. I can't help it. I really shouldn't work with her. I can't concentrate. 

Right, think about trees…. Christmas Trees. 'Tis the season and all that. Christmas Trees are safe. I will not blush, stare and make a complete prat of myself if I think about trees. Visualise trees on the parchment, not Hermione's face.  Stop looking at Hermione. STOP. That's not stopping, you great tit. 

"Ron, are you alright? You're all red." Hermione looks at me, concernedly.

"I'm fine. It's just a bit hot in here, you know." 

"You do look a bit warm." She still looks concerned, wait, she's leaning over and putting her hand on my forehead. This is hardly helping the situation. Right. Christmas Trees. Holly. Ivy. Mistletoe. Kissing Hermione. GAH. What's wrong with me?

"Ron, are you sure you're ok? Shall we go and see Madam Pomfrey? Maybe you've eaten something that disagreed with you. You know I thought those Mince Pies looked dodgy, and after all you did eat about 20 of them….." She's babbling. 

"Hermione!" I can't help but laugh. "There's nothing wrong with me. Stop worrying."

"I can't help it." She mutters. Huh. She looks a bit pink herself, and as she takes her hand from my forehead I am very aware we are sitting quite closely together. Looking flustered, Hermione leans back in her chair, and I instantly do the same. 

Hermione looks outside, for once it's actually snowing in England in Christmas time. And not that pathetic kind that turns to mush as soon as it lands, but the real snowball- friendly variety. 

"Ooo it's nearly Christmas," she remarks, sounding excited. 

"About four days." Come on, Christmas means presents and food. I know how many hours and minutes it is till Christmas, never mind days. 

Hermione raises an eyebrow. "Ron Weasley, don't you go all cool on me now. How long to go….exactly?"

"How do you do that?"

"What?" She looks at me.

"Read my mind!" Actually, that's a scary thought. If she could, I'm in trouble. You know I wouldn't put it past her, with a brain like that.

"I can't read you're mind Ron!" She giggles, but it turns into a sigh. "Sometimes I wish I could."  
  


"What's that supposed to mean?" Honestly, she's a mystery to me, this one. Incomprehensible.   
  


"Nothing really. You wouldn't be interested." She busies herself rearranging a mountain of parchment into several small hills.

"Do I not look interested?" 

"Trust me, you wouldn't want to know." She says, quietly. 

Grrr. Of course the sensible thing to do would be to let this one go, wouldn't it? I should just continue with polite conversation about the weather, Harry and Ginny, or even Snape's ambiguous sexuality. 

Am I ever sensible?

"Of course I want to know. My entire purpose in life is finding out what the hell goes on in that head of yours!" 

Why would I say that? Why?  Maybe I should just have done with it and tattoo "I love you, Hermione" in bright pink lettering across my forehead. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asks. Good question. 

I think I'm on the verge of saying something completely stupid here. That would be a surprise, wouldn't it? It seems all I'm capable of, these days. 

"Ron! Hermione!" Should have guessed you'd be here!" As if on cue, Harry walks over to us, grinning. Classic timing that boy has. Bloody marvellous. 

"Look, I can't stop. I've got to go meet Gin, but I just thought I'd better drop this off for you Hermione." He looks apologetically at me, handing her a letter. "I caught Seamus trying to steam it open earlier." He looks nervously at me, judging my reaction. Run like the wind, Harry, while you still can. 

"I've got to go. See you." He runs. 

Hermione looks like she's going to try to tuck the letter into my bag, without me noticing. She's a sly one, honestly. 

Right, the key thing here is, naturally, to stay calm. Not rush to any conclusions. Just because that is most probably a letter from Viktor professing his undying love to her and finalising their plans for elopement does not make it necessary for me to loose my temper. 

"Is that a letter from Viktor sodding Krum?" I ask, ever so sweetly. 

"No." Hermione doesn't quite meet my eye. 

"Can I see?"

"No."

"Right." I'm seething. 

"Oh, Ron, it's nothing. He's probably just owling me a Merry Christmas."

"Yes, I'm sure that's what it is. "Dear Her my oh nee.  Merry Christmas. I'm so pleased we're going to get married, have lots of babies and live happily ever after."

Hermione looks like she's trying to suppress a smile. "Oh Ron, don't be so stupid. I'd never marry Viktor."

I don't look at her, and emit a cross between a sigh and a cough. 

"Though I wouldn't say no to children. I mean, I don't think they'd mind being illegitimate, would they? Loads of people do it these days, it's not even an issue anymore." She's trying desperately not to laugh. "How many do you think I should have? Two? Three? Four? Five? Seven? Ten? What's an average number these days?"

"Are you trying to kill me woman? Is that it? Do you want me dead?" 

"What right now??" Hermione quips.

 She's a comic that girl. And she's looking rather impressed with herself. Merlin. 

"Funny." 

"Oh, Ron." She's looking at me with a weird sort of expression on her face. Probably plotting my death. Or her marriage. Or both. 

"Oh Ron, what?" I mimic. 

"Can I ask you a question?" She's looking quite nervous, which seems odd, given the circumstances_. I'm_ the one about to be interrogated_. I'm_ the one with something to hide. 

"Erm…" I articulate with ground- breaking originality.

"……..And when I ask you this question, " she splutters. "Just be. You know, honest. Because I've wanted to ask it for a while." 

Honesty. Just what I was afraid she'd want. 

"Right, fire away then."

"Well, I suppose it's _the_ question." She takes a deep breath. "Ron, What is your problem with Viktor? Is it because he's a famous Quidditch player?" She's scanning my face. 

I look at her, aghast. Is that honestly what she thinks? Three years of jealousy induced rants and she puts it down to Quidditch?

 "Because if it is, you really shouldn't get down on yourself about it. You're a _fantastic_ Quidditch player. You should know that. You just need to have more faith in yourself." She's not quite meeting my eyes.

I think she's being serious.

"You think this is about _Quidditch_?" I ask, incredulously.

"Well what else could it be about?" She's on her feet now, looking at me with that same strange expression on her face. 

I stand up, facing her. 

"You!" 

That did not just slip out. 

"Me?"

"No, Snape. Yes of course you!"

"I don't understand."

"No, I don't suppose you would. Look…." I'm suddenly aware that in the library there are numerous pupils, likely to be hanging on our every word.  "Can you just come with me, please? It'll only take five minutes." 

"Yes, Ron, but I still don't get it." 

"Let's just go." I steer her up flight after flight of stairs, until we get to the prefects bathroom. At least no one's likely to walk in here. It's nicer to take humiliation in private, I've always thought. 

"Well, here we are." Hermione looks at me nervously, before her face clouds over slightly. "Ron," she blurts. "Do you often bring girls up here?"

Odd question. 

"No. I'm not usually one for passionate encounters in bathrooms." But there's a thought.

"Good." She turns away. 

"Er, Hermione. Why d'you ask?"

"I don't know. I just wanted to make sure." 

"Make sure that I'm not misusing prefect facilities?" I laugh. 

"No," she says seriously. "Not exactly."

"Well what is it then?" I insist. 

"Well aside from the obvious rule breaking implications, I….…I just don't like the thought of it, ok?" She's gone an unusual colour. Maybe _she_ ate too many of those Mince Pies. She did say they looked a bit dodgy.

"Well, I'm pleased you take your prefect duties so seriously. Lord knows, the bathrooms need patrolling now and again. I don't even want to think about what Seamus and Lavender get up to on the one on the fifth floor!" I add my pathetic attempt to inject some humour into the situation. 

Never the less, we smile at each other, knowingly. 

"That's not what I meant Ron!" Hermione half-giggles.

"Course not, after all you've got your imminent head-girl ship to consider."

"Are you even listening to me?" Hermione mutters. "There's no point trying with you is there?"

"Trying what?" 

"Trying to tell you something. Something important!" She's raising her voice now. 

I'm looking at her, blankly. To be honest, I'm thinking how gorgeous she is when she's angry. I'm pathetic!

"Well tell me!" I insist.

"Isn't it slightly obvious? _I_ don't like the thought of you and other girls."

 "And you think I like the thought of you and Viktor?" This jumps out before I can stop it, the image making me feel sick with jealousy. 

"Well let's just clear this up once and for all! For goodness sake, Ron, there's nothing, nothing with Viktor and I. We're polite correspondents. That's all. In fact." She picks up the letter and opens it, her eyes glinting like mad woman. She clears her throat. "And I quote,"" I hof spent much time with Kate, and ve hof decided to marry next Spring." She looks at me, and aside from feeling my stomach flip I can't help but be impressed by the accuracy of her Bulgarian accent. "You know what Ron? You read it. I've got nothing to hide."

She flings the paper at me. "And just so we're _completely _clear. _I'm _in love with you, Ron Weasley.  Merlin knows why, but I always have been! And I don't want to know about you snogging in _any_ bathrooms, unless you do so with ME!"

"Hermione, I…." 

"So you'd better give me some indication of what's going on in that head of yours, because I refuse to make a fool out of myself any longer!"

Before I know what I'm doing I'm grabbing her wrist and pulling her towards me. We're nose to nose. My heartbeat quickens to a frantic pace. Without really thinking I bend my head and to kiss her, just for a second. Just long enough to say what I can't seem to put into words. And it's long enough to confirm what I already was sure of. That Hermione is absolutely everything I want. It may sound stupid, but I feel the sparks. I force myself to pull away almost instantly, to check her reaction, to make sure that this is right. It has to be.

"Ron," Hermione whispers. "You just kissed me." She doesn't pull away. Good sign.

"Well spotted." I smile, but can't seem to get any other words out. 

All of a sudden, Hermione grabs me by the collar and pulls me down to her, but unlike me she doesn't begin by holding back. Her lips are on mine and as she wraps her arms around my neck, I try to pull her as close towards me as I can and we're kissing with such intensity that I can't tell where she ends and I begin. It feels like six years of suppressed feelings are being released. I know that I couldn't break away from her now if I tried. Gasping for breath I push her against the bathroom door, and deepen the kiss further. I can feel her hands running through my hair and along the nape of my neck. All I can say is that this feels ridiculously right, that we fit. We're two pieces of an incredibly tempestuous puzzle and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Slowly, we pull away, but I don't let go of Hermione. To be honest, I'm a bit scared about what might happen if I did. 

Hermione smiles at me. "Good answer."

"Well, you know. I try." I realise I'm grinning. Grinnng like a _fool_. A too tall, gangly, red haired freckled fool. But you know what? It doesn't matter. Not anymore.

**Thanks for reading, and if you fancy you could just pop a little review my** **way!**

QueenJB 

xxxxxx


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